


Comfort

by anastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Sex, Frottage, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 08:43:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7215535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anastiel/pseuds/anastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Sam’s being honest, he's been Dean's from the moment he was born. His heart’s always belonged to his brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort

Dean’s hands are just the right amount of rough; covered with calluses left over from cleaning guns, from rough fights with ghosts, and fixing cars. They scuff over Sam’s skin, his hipbones, the small of his back; leaving imprints in their wake. Scratches of light red Sam will remember for days to come, dotted on his skin like ownership. 

If Sam’s being honest, Dean’s owned him from the moment he was born. His heart’s always belonged to his brother. 

“Sam,” Dean groans, mouth hot, lips slicked and parted against Sam’s neck. He grinds his cock against Sam’s, their hips pressed tight together, the friction gloriously perfect. 

“I don’t want you to fuck me,” Sam replies, in a hushed whisper, loud in the silence of the darkened hotel room.

“I know,” Dean gasps. He bites at Sam’s neck, leaving, one, two, three more marks, stark against his pale skin in the moonlight. Sam grunts in pain, but he gets harder regardless; there’s something in him that enjoys a mix of pleasure with pain. 

“I just wanna feel you,” Sam mutters, pressing his lips against the long line of Dean’s jaw, leaving three kisses there, before pulling back and claiming his brother’s mouth. 

Dean’s beautifully callused hands trace lines down Sam’s sides, pressing hard against his skin until white  marks remain. He shudders, a shiver running down his spine at Dean’s touch, and arches into his hands, absorbing every touch like a starved breath for air. Dean presses a kiss against his forehead, nose, and in the divot of his collarbone.

“Gorgeous, Sam, you’re fucking gorgeous,” Dean murmurs, kissing down Sam’s chest, curling his fingers into Sam’s sides. 

“Love you,” Sam whispers, gasping against Dean’s mouth as Dean kisses him, deeply, rocking their cocks together slowly. 

“Love you too, little brother.” He wraps his hand around his cock joined with Sam’s, giving them a few slow, joined strokes. They gasp into each other’s mouths, arousal peaking, orgasm quickly approaching.

It’s a way to deal with hunts, to be closer, to make sure they are alright. Not conventional obviously, but it’s what works for them, this closeness; it’s necessary. 

Their hips thrust together, the old, rusty springs of the hotel mattress creeping beneath them and Sam buries his face into the crook of Dean’s neck, softer hands resting lightly on Dean’s hips. Dean’s mouth presses against Sam’s lower neck, breathing hot and wet against Sam’s skin. He moans when he comes, Sam’s name of course, a stuttered version of it, sending Sam over the edge. Their hips stutter together in orgasm until the aftershocks wear off and Sam relaxes on top of him, breath heavy against Dean’s neck. 

“Feel better, Sammy-babe?” Dean asks, his voice is gruff, and he tangles a hand in Sam’s hair, comfortingly rubbing circles into his scalp.

“Yeah,” Sam agrees, softly. He scoots his body down, tilting his head to the side to press his ear over Dean’s heartbeat.

“You always make me feel better,” Sam says, his arms tightening around Dean’s middle, curling around him as he always has, wanting to get closer. Sam thinks he’ll never be able to get close enough. 

“Sleep, Sam,” Dean urges, pressing a soft kiss to Sam’s forehead. “We’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

Sam nods, slowly closing his eyes. He presses one last butterfly soft kiss on Dean’s chest, then relaxes on his brother’s body, waiting for sleep to come. Dean strokes Sam’s hair until they both drift off, tangled around each other; more one body than two. 


End file.
